


Shiver

by shopfront



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, Getting Together, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pain Sharing, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: After a spate of kidnapping attempts, billionaire CEO Ray Palmer makes a point not to go anywhere without security. When his usual bodyguards go on vacation, he relies on an agency to find him a competent, last minute replacement. But sometimes even that isn’t enough to keep him safe, though perhaps this time there’s a silver lining to be found.





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justanotherray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherray/gifts).



> Thank you to D for the beta!

There was a soft knock, muffled by the wood of the door and followed by a tentative voice calling out for Ray. “Mr. Palmer?”

Ray deliberately forced a broad smile onto his face as he looked up. He waited a moment for the door to open, and the intern to stick her head through the opening. As he’d expected, nervousness was written clearly all over her face just like every other time she'd spoken to him. He struggled not to sigh as she edged into the room, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, sir. But the agency has sent over someone for you to interview, and Mrs. Kessler said to bring him up before I left, and-”

As he rubbed at the tension suddenly blooming across his forehead, Ray felt his smile waver a little despite his best efforts. Pushing off the edge of the desk he’d been leaning on, he dropped the file he’d been reading down on it and turned towards the door. “That’s fine, Sophia, please send them in. Oh, and Sophia? Listen, why don't you take the morning off tomorrow. Interns shouldn't be working this late, I’ll let Mrs. Kessler know not to expect you until after lunch.”

Sophia blushed, wide-eyed, and she backed out of the room as she nodded frantically. Ray heard a faint thump and a grunt from the hallway, followed by Sophia's profuse apologies, and then, finally, she was replaced with a grimacing, unshaven man. Ray stared for a moment, blinking.

“Ray Palmer,” he finally said brightly, shaking himself and striding across the room with his hand out.

As he did, he couldn’t help his eyes roaming down the figure before him. Ray was used to bodyguards who were just as tall, if not taller, than himself. How the agency always managed it, he was never quite sure. But he had become familiar with the rare sensation of looking up while he interviewed a new hire and now he couldn't help but notice that he was looking down slightly. Though what the other man lacked in height, he certainly seemed to make up for in sheer muscle mass.

“Sorry about that, I must be practically half asleep over my documents here. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

The other man stared at him for a moment, mouth in a flat line, before he huffed under his breath and accepted the handshake.

“Mick Rory,” he said with seeming reluctance as he handed over the usual envelope that likely contained a replica of his resume and other details. Details that were probably already sitting unread in Ray’s assistant’s email inbox.

A strange sensation trickled down Ray’s neck as he accepted the envelope. He fought back a sigh as he dropped Mick Rory’s hand, trying to resist the urge to crack his neck. It was late, and he was tired. Too tired.

“Mr. Rory. Would you like a drink? Or I could call out for a food delivery, if you haven’t eaten dinner yet?”

He waited a beat, still smiling, but Mick just shrugged. “I’m good,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked around the office.

The movement pulled his jeans tighter, emphasising the thick cords of muscle in his thighs, and Ray swallowed hard. The agency also usually sent people in suits to guard him, even the women.

Not that Ray minded jeans and leather as long as someone could get the job done, and Mick Rory certainly wore it well. His boots and jacket both bore scuff marks, but even in the dimness of the after-hours office lighting Ray could see the supple shine of it. Everything on Mick looked comfortably worn in so that it wouldn’t hamper his movement, and the way the jacket clung tightly to his shoulders left Ray itching to touch.

“Nice digs,” Mick said, interrupting Ray’s rambling line of thought. Ray jerked his head up, spinning quickly on his heel.

“Yes. It, ah, does the job,” Ray said over his shoulder as he walked back towards his desk and let his welcoming smile fade back into weariness. “The view is quite something when the sun is rising, actually.”

Mick made an unimpressed noise. “You often here late enough to see the sunrise?”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes, when we have a project deadline looming. Did the agency give you all the details? If late hours are a problem, I’m sure we can arrange someone to help cover-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mick said gruffly. When Ray raised his other eyebrow, curious, Mick rolled his eyes and looked uncomfortable. “Got nowhere to be.”

“Alright,” Ray said slowly as he settled behind his desk and picked up his discarded file, dropping the envelope in a drawer. “Well, feel free to look around, I'll be at least another hour. If you need anything just come find me, everyone else has probably left. There’s a kitchenette and meeting rooms with couches down the hall. Some of my previous bodyguards would leave books or laptops here for downtime, you might want to do the same tomorrow. Our building security is excellent, so you just need to stay close for when I need to leave the office for meetings and to go home.”

Mick grunted again, and hooked a thumb towards the door. “Cool. I’ll just,” he said, then turned towards the door as if that was a complete sentence. His eyes flicked over Ray as he went, and he rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck. “Yell if somebody tries to kill you, I guess.”

Choking on a surprised laugh, Ray nodded as he watched Mick leave. He forced himself to look away once he realised his gaze was drawing slowly down Mick’s back, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He really was exhausted and he definitely didn’t need to get distracted ogling his newest employee, no matter how casually he was dressed.

Even if it really did suit him.

*

Pulling a face, Mick looked around him at the empty hallway. Even the girl who'd squeaked when he told her he had an appointment with the CEO had disappeared. Tapping his fingers against his thigh, Mick closed the door behind him and then stood in front of it for a long moment before shrugging and ambling off. Picking a door at random, he started peering into each of the rooms on the floor until he'd seen them all. Then he headed for the stairwell and starting over again below.

Occasionally he moved further into an office and poked through desks and bookshelves, fishing out objects at random and chuckling to himself as he put them down somewhere else. A stress ball made its way into his pocket and a particularly ornate letter opener ended up blade down in the middle of someone else’s stupid desktop sand garden, before his cell started vibrating in his pocket.

Rolling his shoulders to get rid of a phantom sensation he couldn't identify, Mick answered the call with a grunt and then took the nearest elevator back up to the top floor. The guy from before - Ray something - was standing outside his own office and he lit up when he saw Mick behind the elevator’s opening door.

“I’m sorry, that took longer than I thought it would,” he said in a rush as he hurried to join Mick, even though Mick was already holding the doors for him.

Mick watched out of the corner of his eye as the man fumbled his belongings trying to slip his cell into his briefcase. Smiling sheepishly, he paused to rub briefly at his forehead and frown, and then continued babbling. One of Mick’s eyebrows rose slightly with each sentence, even as he fixed his gaze on the numbers ticking down the floors as they descended.

“I usually try to get away sooner, particularly when there’s someone new who doesn’t know the route yet. But I suppose at least there’ll be less traffic at this hour. Oh,” Ray said, turning his whole body to face Mick, eyes wide. “I forgot to say, you should call me Ray. If you want, I mean. You haven’t even called me Mr. Palmer yet, but if you wanted- That is, my other guards have all- I mean, we’ll probably be spending quite a bit of time together for the next little while, so. Well. Just. You can call me Ray. If you want.”

Mick tilted his head thoughtfully, still watching the floors tick down. “Sure, whatever,” he said flatly. He noticed the other man’s face fall, though, and exhaled heavily through his nose. “You’re the boss,” he said, aiming for an apologetic tone. But he fell a little short, even to his own ears, so he just shrugged a shoulder and gave up.

Something complicated that Mick couldn’t identify crossed Ray’s face and then was gone, just as the elevator dinged to announce that they’d reached the basement. The doors began to open and, hunching his shoulders, Ray hurried to step out. Only to be stopped by Mick’s hand on his chest. Ray froze, staring down at it.

“I go first,” Mick said sternly.

He let himself eye Ray pointedly, like the man was at least a little bit of an idiot - which he probably was - and then Mick stepped out ahead of him and surveyed the parking lot. He let his hand fall as he moved, clenching and releasing it by his side to try and shake a sudden tingling sensation. There was nobody in sight, just a surprising number of cars parked near the elevator for so late in the day.

“It’s what you pay me for,” he tried to explain when he looked back to give Ray the go ahead to exit the elevator, only to find him gaping.

Ray shook himself slightly. “Right,” he said. “Right, of course. It’s just that there’s security down here, too, so I've never-”

Whatever Ray never did, Mick didn’t hear. Because before Ray could finish his sentence, his eyes widened. Then Mick heard the dull thunk of something connecting with the back of his own head, and there was nothing but darkness.

* 

Mick came to with a groan, only faintly registering the sudden pause in chattering voices above him.

“Can you open your eyes for me, sir?” a female voice asked as someone placed a hand on his shoulder. Mick just shook them off as he opened his eyes - and realised it was the same woman who'd spoken, a paramedic with long dark hair - before he pushed past her to sit up and then struggle to his feet. Immediately he swore, one hand going to the back of his head and the other to his ribs. Looking concerned, the paramedic tracked his hands closely and reached out to tug aside Mick’s jacket as she followed him. “You should try to stay still. Can you tell me your name?”

Still disoriented, Mick grunted his name at her and let her pull up his clothing and inspect his unmarked abdomen while he prodded curiously at the bandage now on the back of his head.

“Well, you can call me Sandra. I don’t see any sign of injury, are you in any pain?” the woman tried again, grabbing his arm in an iron grip when he made to move away. “Mr. Rory, please, I need you to answer my questions. Do you know where you are?”

“Feels like someone kicked me in the ribs. We're at Palmer Tech,” Mick answered grouchily, trying and failing to bat her hands away. “So where’s Palmer?”

There was a small commotion beside them, and a man with a badge and uniform appeared beside them. “Are you saying Ray Palmer was with you?” he asked urgently.

Mick eyed him with suspicion. “You haven’t checked the tapes yet? What are you, some kind of moron?”

The police officer exchanged a loaded glance with one of the many serious-faced suits standing around near them. “The cameras were all switched off around the time building security think you were attacked. I’m going to need to take a statement right away-”

“Like hell you are, he needs to go to a hospital. He could have a concussion,” Sandra broke in furiously, dropping Mick's arm as she turned towards the officer. Mick took advantage of the distraction to edge away from them, pausing only briefly to hiss with pain as his ribs flared again. Pressing a hand to his own side, he breathed in sharply and let the pain wash over him.

Then he frowned, and pressed harder. His pain level didn’t change, so he pressed harder again, but still nothing.

“You need to stop moving if it hurts,” Sandra said in exasperation, turning back and trying to pry his hand away. “If you’ll just let me-”

“I’m fine,” Mick said brusquely, shaking her off with a note of finality in his voice. “It’s not me.”

Behind her, Mick saw the police officer’s eyes narrow. “Are you saying your bonded is injured?”

“I don’t have-,” Mick started to say, and then shook his head and took the excuse to shut up when one of the suits interrupted them.

“Excuse me, but we really must insist on interviewing him first. We’ve found signs of a break-in among the offices on the upper floors, and-”

“You said he doesn’t work for you.”

“He doesn’t. Mr. Palmer prefers to arrange his own private security,” the other man explained in the overly patient tones of someone rapidly getting sick of repeating himself, and who found private security hired outside of their purview irritating. “Which is why we need to-”

The police officer opened his mouth again, looking cranky, and Mick took the opportunity to slip away. He kept his expression purposefully bland as he left them behind, trying not to smirk too obviously as voices were raised over the missing objects from the top floors.

He walked carefully, smoothly, so as not to jostle his side. Or his head. Yet, even as he ducked under the police tape, it was only his ribs and not his supposedly concussion worthy head wound that throbbed. Grimacing, he pressed a hand to his side again and fumbled for his keys.

If Palmer really was.... Those idiots couldn’t find their way out of a wet paper bag, so Mick would have to follow the tugging sensation growing in his belly until he found Ray himself. Alone.

*

Ray squinted at the ceiling, trying and failing once more to focus his eyes. Everything stayed just the wrong side of blurry, and he gave into the urge to feel the back of his head again. It didn’t hurt more for the rough handling and his hand still came away stubbornly unbloodied, but Ray couldn’t shake the feeling that he was injured.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been locked into what appeared to be an emptied supply closet. Just enough light filtered in around the door for him to see boxes still stacked on the higher shelves, but nothing had been left on the floor except the ratty, folded mattress he was currently lying on.

Ray had tried to get up and break down the door early on. But the handle had only rattled, locked, and he’d quickly felt too queasy to force the issue. So now he was flat on the floor and staying there, knees bent to try and squeeze himself more comfortably into the inadequate length of the room as he tried to make out whatever words he could from the people outside.

Not that he could catch much. The murmur of voices rose and fell, but nobody came to check on him. A sensation low in his gut bothered him occasionally, urging him to get up again and turn left or right and gp somewhere else - but there was nowhere he could really go, locked in as he was, so he tried to ignore it.

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed. Sometimes he hummed to himself, until someone began banging angrily on the door whenever he did. Then he tried counting the cracks in the wall and ceiling, but he still couldn’t really focus well enough to count. Faintly, he wondered why nothing except for his head hurt and whether he should be more worried about that. His new bodyguard had gone down with a sickening sound, and the masked people who’d thrown him in their van hadn’t been too happy when he’d struggled to get away from them to check on him. He remember a few bluntly aimed kicks and punches before he lost consciousness and the doors to the van he was in had slammed shut.

He didn’t think he’d seen blood on the concrete floor, but Ray couldn’t help worrying at the thought like it was a torn nail. It had been so late, which was Ray's fault. What if nobody found him quickly? What if he was even more hurt than Ray had thought, and was bleeding out in the basement of Ray's building?

Trying to distract himself, Ray started humming again. He only belatedly remembered that it would bring the angry banger back again, but then he frowned.

No-one had started banging yet. Ray hummed a little louder, turning his head towards the door, but still nothing. Though he noticed a dark shape dart across in front of it, briefly obscuring the light as if someone had walked past the cupboard quickly.

Then there was a yell, and a loud crashing noise followed by a series of thuds. The closet went dark again, as something collided with the door and then stayed in front of it, blocking the gaps around the sides. Before Ray could get off the floor, there was the sound of fabric dragging across carpet and the light returned just before the door swung open.

Blinking frantically, Ray raised a hand to block the worst of the glare - but someone grabbed it, gently pushing it down as they crouched over him.

“Don’t move, idiot,” a vaguely familiar voice grumbled at him. The hand that held his flexed, and Ray relaxed - even before his brain caught up and identified the voice as Mick’s. “Your ribs might be broken.”

“No, they aren’t,” Ray said, still squinting. He was vaguely aware that he was probably smiling dopily, but he didn’t protest as Mick moved aside his ripped suit and unbuttoned his shirt. “It’s just my head that’s broken.”

"That why your hair looks like that?" Mick asked wryly, still unbuttoning with a determined glint in his eye.

"What do you mean my hair?" Ray asked. He patted his head, only to find his hair sticking up in spikes from having run his fingers through it constantly.

An exasperated noise was his only response until Mick’s hands reached skin, and suddenly warmth flooded through him.

“Ow,” Ray said, startled. Then he winced as the warmth was quickly followed by pain. Mick ignored him, gently pressing along his ribs with such close attention Ray was almost convinced he was counting them. “Really, ow! What? Stop- ow, ow, ow! Seriously?”

Struggling up a little more successfully now, Ray flinched reflexively as he shifted further into the light. Then he realised the light wasn't bothering him as much, and he stared out at the bigger room in amazement. Unconscious people were strewn every which way. Ray winced in sympathy as he noticed bruises were already beginning to appear on the jaw of the person nearest to them.

Then Ray looked down, seeing for the first time that bruises were also blooming across his own skin. Ray's ribs were a carnival of colours, framed by Mick’s fingers. Mick, who was wincing now and raising a hand to his head.

“Oh my god,” Ray said faintly. Absently he used his free hand to help ease Mick onto the floor and watched while he reached into his jeans for something. A cellphone, Ray realised a moment later as Mick fished one out and punched a few buttons.

“Yeah,” Mick replied, voice as dry as ever. But he didn’t release Ray’s wrist from his grip as he held the phone to his ear with his other hand and asked for the police.

“Oh. Oh, wow,” Ray repeated himself dumbly, continuing to stare. Mick rolled his eyes but his lips quirked a little at the corners, and the longer they sat there touching the stronger the renewed trickling feeling down Ray’s neck became. “I can’t- We can't- oh my god.”

“Shut up, Palmer,” Mick said. His thumb brushed soothingly across Ray’s inner wrist as he began to give the emergency services operator directions to their location.

*

Mick cursed as they limped out of the building together, just in time to see an ambulance park and a familiar face glare at them from the front seat. Bracketed in by wailing police cars, Mick sighed and ignored everyone else pouring past them and into the building. He just focused on getting himself and Ray to the back of the ambulance, even though Ray was doing his best to make a nuisance of himself by stumbling and reaching towards Mick's head with a concerned expression.

Sandra, to her credit, took one wide-eyed look at Ray’s open shirt and purpling ribs and put two and two together. Then she immediately tried to separate them.

“We’re going to need a second ambulance so we can keep your pain levels and vitals steady until we can get you both in for scans. Why doesn’t anyone ever tell us when both sides of a bond are injured?” she muttered as she tried to shoo Mick over to sit in the back of a nearby police car while her partner looked at Ray. But Mick dug his heels in and set his jaw.

“You can’t,” Ray said quickly, before they could start arguing. “It’s- We’re not- This is new. Our… our bond, it’s new. Oh my god, Mick, our _bond_.”

“Oh, for the love of- A bigger ambulance for newly bonded pairs then,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air as she headed for the front of the vehicle, and the radio. Mick settled himself down next to Ray with a huff. He glared at anyone who ventured close, including Sandra’s partner when they tried to settle a shock blanket around Ray’s shoulders.

“We need to talk,” Ray said, staring at Mick as he fumbled for Mick's hand again. He didn't seem to notice the blanket.

“Not right now,” Mick grunted, shifting slightly to let the paramedic work even as he continued glaring. But he let Ray intertwine their fingers, and frowned but didn’t move away when Ray leant in closer.

“Yes, we do. I know you barely know me, and technically right now I’m your boss. And I bet I haven’t made the best first impression being busy and then getting myself kidnapped. But we should, I don’t know. Go on a date," Ray said nervously, picking up steam as he spoke. "As soon as the paramedics clear us. I know a couple of great restaurants near here that do breakfast. Maybe-”

“Shut _up_ , Haircut,” Mick said, and then leant in and captured his mouth in a kiss to stop him talking. 

Ray made a surprised noise against Mick’s lips. Distantly, Mick heard the paramedic maje an even more surprised noise before footsteps began to move rapidly away.

It took Ray a moment to catch up, but once he had it was Mick’s turn to make a surprised noise as Ray returned the kiss with a vengeance. He dropped Mick's hand and then slipped his own around the back of Mick’s head, hesitating when his fingers met bandages before detouring to grasp the collar of Mick’s jacket and use it to tug him closer. Mick grunted but let himself be moved as he opened his mouth beneath the insistent swipe of Ray’s tongue.

When they pulled apart, the bond finally tingled pleasantly.

Mick just stared at Ray in stunned silence. “I screwed up and let you get hurt,” he said eventually. He swallowed, licking his lips, before his expression shuttered and he tried to turn away. Ray’s grip on his collar was too tight, however, and he didn’t get far.

“And I was worried I might accidentally sexually harass you in the workplace,” Ray confessed, beaming. “But isn’t that the sort of thing that bonds are built to overcome?”

Mick gave him a skeptical look, brow furrowed. Ray just ignored him and leant in again, but throats clearing nearby made him pause. Sheepishly, Ray turned his head and his smile turned apologetic. Mick didn't bother acknowledging their audience of two, but Ray pulled away with a wince and a sigh.

“I could eat,” Mick said, as the paramedics began to poke and prod at them both. 

Ray’s head shot back around, his expression stunned but pleased. 

“Breakfast. Later,” Mick elaborated when Ray just smiled stupidly at him without answering. “I guess I could eat breakfast, later, if you want.”

"Yeah," Ray said, grabbing Mick's hand once more. "I want."


End file.
